From the Asylum
by SeverinadeStrango
Summary: Tavington, O'Hara, Gabriel and a few others are stranded among a deserted battle scene. Among them is a female British officer, only accepted into the ranks because they feared what will happen if they didn't. After all, insanity is best kept contained. NOT Tavington/OC or anything like that. Rated M for blood, gore, and LOTS of character death.


**From the Asylum**

**By: SeverinadeStrango**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Patriot. If I did, I wouldn't be sitting here, would I?**

**Summary: Tavington, O'Hara, Gabriel and a few others are stranded among a deserted battle scene. Among them is a female British officer, only accepted into the ranks because they feared what will happen if they didn't. After all, insanity is best kept contained. NOT Tavington/OC or anything like that. Rated M for blood, gore, and LOTS of character death. **

**Author's Note: I've just found this archive and while browsing through the stories I've found there are certain characters that everyone loves. (Hint, hint) So I've decided to kill them off. One at a time. This is one of my apocalyptic, let's-go-make-people-die stories. Oh boy, I'm going to have fun. With that said, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter One**

The Explosion had been _huge._

It _must _have been, to knock him away _this _far.

He ran his fingers through his blood-clotted blond hair.

No sound.

His right ear was now useless.

Gabriel Martin looked around him.

Dead bodies.

Nothing _but._

They were clad in the blue coats of the colonials and the red coats of the British and the dark brown stains of dead, old blood. He could see a few of them, barely alive, trying to move desperately before the skeletal hand of death claimed them.

"You're pretty."

He turned his head around sharply to find a woman staring at him, inspecting him. She was dressed in the red coat of a British officer. Whether it was stolen or rightfully earned, he would never guess.

"Shame."

She spoke again. Her wide, grey eyes ran up and down his body, pupils the size of pinpricks. Her voice was distorted, as if someone had reached into her throat and attempted to tear out her vocal cords.

Gabriel was confused. He looked up at her, inquiring to speak.

"Who…are you?"

Although it was such a simple question, she seemed very confused.

"Who….am…I?" She scratched her head, full of stringy, black hair that looked as dirty as an old dishrag. "I'm me, I suppose."

She sat down and played with a few pieces of stray metal, probably the remains of a destroyed cannonball. The metal cut her calloused, bony fingers, even more blood spattering the ground.

"I know who _you _are, though."

Gabriel's eyebrows flew up in shock. _How could she know me better than herself?_

"You're the one I picked."

"The one you…..picked?" He asked, smacking her hand away from the pieces of metal on the ground. The way she was toying with that was scaring him.

"Yes. See?" She said, pulling out a piece of paper about the size of his index finger. It was old and crumpled. Something was written on it in a messy scrawl.

His name. _Gabriel Martin._

"See, now that I picked you, you have to help me."

"Help you?" This woman was getting stranger and stranger by the second.

"Yes."

"How?"

"Um…..let's see…lay still."

Gabriel was in no position to argue, seeing as he was now half-deaf and severely injured. He held his breath and became still as a statue. She began to remove his coat, trying at first not to damage it, then becoming fed up and tearing it off him. Then undoing the buttons of his shirt. One, two, three, four, five, six.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, a note of panic leaking into his voice.

Then it came.

A sharp pain like no other he had ever experienced, a burning feeling spreading through his entire body.

The woman was bent over him, her hand clutching a very ragged and certainly very sharp piece of metal.

Half of it was buried in his chest.

Gabriel screamed. The woman frowned.

"Now, now. Hold still! You're messing up the incision…."

"LET ME GO!" He roared, but was silenced by a blow to his head.

She said nothing, re-focusing on the metal. She dragged it downward, slicing through the young man's skin, drawing blood and screams from her victim as she continued to make the perfect, straight cut to the end of his torso.

A sob escaped the man, he shuddered with helplessness at the thought of what she would do next.

"Please…..my wife! She needs me….." The woman paused and focused her grey eyes on him, appearing to be thinking hard.

"But…..I don't understand, Gabriel. Your wife is dead."

"…..dead?!..." he gasped, shock hitting him harder than a ton of bricks. "No. It can't be!"

"But it is," she said, shaking the blood off her hands. "A man called….what was it….._Tavington, _I believe, burned her alive along with a bunch of others."

Gabriel could not believe what he had just heard.

"I'll…..kill him….." he gasped, barely able to speak as the wound started to sting.

"That's not possible," the woman said, crossing her arms, "you don't make any sense. You'll be dead, see….."

She then went back to the fresh, bleeding cut, actually _reaching inside _the wound and pulling, _tearing _the two flaps of skin apart. There. All those pretty organs were visible now, still fully functioning.

"Hmm…..I thought the heart would be bigger and the stomach would be smaller. But oh well…." She hummed, dismissing the "flaw" with a wave of her hand. "Want to see?"

She got no response. Gabriel was crying and shaking, he wanted her to _stop, _he wanted _mercy._

"I guess not. No one ever wants to see these days." Taking a sharp stick from the ground, she poked the earth a few times with it before turning back to the mutilated body in front of her. "I'll start with the heart this time."

Positioning the rather pointy end of the stick over the man's most vital organ, she looked down and stared into his eyes. Gabriel knew there was no stopping her. Her eyes, huge, grey, and sunken into her face, were filled with insanity.

"You're really pretty. I wish I could have picked you later. But, see, I have to be fair. When it's your turn, there's nothing I can do about it."

A wail of pain and terror was the only response she got.

"Ah well. Here we goes, then."

The stick was driven into his heart, skewering it, blood spurting out onto the redcoat woman's face.

And Gabriel Martin moved no more.

* * *

**So...what do you all think? If I get lots of reviews I'll kill someone that is loved by many, many people. Like Tavington. Maybe. All of them have to die eventually...hehehe...**

**Until the next chapter, **

**- Severina**


End file.
